


A Kite

by LoversAntiquities



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Equality, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two gold bands burn a hole in his pocket—he doesn’t think he can wait any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kite

They don’t talk about it.

Three in the morning, long before Sam wakes and commits to his run before the sun even thinks to rise above the plains, Dean and Castiel pile into the front bench of the Impala and pull out of the garage, hoping Sam can’t hear the door sliding open and closed, the engine roaring through the chasm of the room and peeling out onto the access road. Castiel is barely awake in the passenger seat, nursing a hastily brewed mug of coffee between his hands, occasionally bringing it to his lips to drink, the life slowly returning to his eyes. Dean fights off a yawn and pinches the bridge of his nose as they stop at the few red lights in town, struggling to wake himself up before they hit Route 281 headed towards 36.

There may have been a discussion the day before, a heat of the moment thing—Dean can’t remember exactly. One minute he was watching television on Castiel’s bed with Castiel reading at his side, and the next he had a lapful of fallen Angel and rushed words falling from their lips. Someone asked the question—he didn't know who. Still, he answered ‘yes’ and let the conversation die, at least for the rest of the day.

It was neither of their ideas, but they shared the same thought. Lawrence is three hours from Lebanon in the daylight; they make it in two and a half, traffic on their side. The courthouse doesn’t open until 8:30, and there’s already a line forming, two couples—two men and two women—chatting amongst each other and exchanging the most sentimental looks he’s ever seen. They wait behind the group and never speak a word, letting their pinkies link together, never letting them separate.

Two gold bands burn a hole in his pocket—he doesn’t think he can wait any longer.

The Justice of the Peace calls the growing group in and leaves the doors open, Castiel now openly holding his hand. News crews are beginning to set up for morning coverage; at some point, they’ll be interviewed, he figures. They need to head out as quickly as they can. Sam will be calling them soon. He listens to the officiate, a blonde woman draped in black with the brightest smile he’s ever seen, announce the union of the two couples before them, sending them off to the clerk after exchanging hugs and  well wishes.

The butterflies in his stomach buzz endlessly between his ribs; his hands shake, breathing stutters. He can’t do this—he can’t _believe_ he’s doing this.

Castiel takes his hand and leads them before the woman, and Dean thinks he _can._ She asks for their vows and Dean takes the two gold bands from the pocket of his jeans, handing one to Castiel and slipping his onto his boyfriend’s finger in the process, Castiel repeating the gesture with steady hands. They’re warm in his grasp, sure. Resolute. There’s so much he could say here—he could talk about how Castiel is his saving grace, that through everything they’ve been through, he’s never lost faith in him. In _them_. Instead, he says “I do” with confidence, losing himself in deep cobalt under florescent lights. And if Castiel’s expression is any indication, he’s thinking the same thing.

Castiel repeats those two words with tenderness and adamancy, tightening his hold on their hands, the gold gleaming on their fingers. “I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mr. Winchester,” their officiate smiles, clapping her hands together. Somewhere in the background, people are clapping and whistling—he doesn't hear any of it. “You may kiss your husband.”

Dean does. He cups Castiel’s face and kisses him, Castiel whimpering into the press until the crowd is at a fever pitch, and Dean has half the mind to flush and run away. He revels in it instead, pulling away after the woman clasps their shoulders, embracing them both in turn. They have papers to file now—maybe an hour at the most, and they’ll be home free. Sam will find out, eventually, if he looks hard enough. But for now, he smiles like he hasn’t before and grips Castiel’s hand tight, vowing to never let go.

Their pinkies lock in the hold, rings clinking against one another, unobserved.

**Author's Note:**

> Literally wrote this in twenty minutes after thinking about it for an hour. I was gonna put it off till tomorrow, but why not. Happy Marriage Equality day!
> 
> The title is from the song "A KITE" by BIGMAMA. The title is a play on words on the Japanese words "Akai Ito," meaning "red thread." In east Asian myth, the red string of fate is connected to two soulmates, either by their pinkies or ankles. Additionally, "the two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break."
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
